


so i stood on this bloody hill

by soapyconnor



Series: Commissions [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Play, Kidnapping, M/M, Murderer au, NSFW, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Stalker, everyone except for james and percy are mentioned briefly, not rape sex just straight sex, towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: james had an obsession with alastair morton. an obsession growing from hatred. he would make this man his. he would see his blood spill all over the concrete, until he was thrown for a loop, and discovered he and alastair weren't so different.





	so i stood on this bloody hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kingscunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingscunt/gifts).



> this work is a commission for kingscunt. if you would like to commission me, my works at $1 for every 100 words. so, if you send me $20, you will receive a 2k fic. i don't charge extra if i go over, and i usually do. you can either comission me at paypal.me/heggsys (make sure to send it regularly, not that you're getting a product from me) or you can message me on tumblr (soapyconnor)

            James sat in the corner of a café, a cup of coffee in his hands. He blew on it, as his eyes followed two men across the room. One was short, very thin, a dark brown mustache dotting his lip, scruff all along his cheeks. The other was taller, a little plumper around the middle, with dark brown hair and dark eyes, with black thick rimmed glasses. The taller wore a suit, while the shorter wore ragged jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

            Jack Daniels and Alastair Morton.

            The couple stood in line to order, Jack talk ceaselessly to Alastair, lightly gripping the man’s hand and leaning up against his side. If it weren’t for the small, loving smile on Alastair’s lips, James wouldn’t even think the two were in love.

            He downed his coffee, enjoying the feeling of it slowly burning down his throat. On the TV, a newscast was playing, telling of a murder that happened two weeks ago, and the string of murders before that.

            James smiled to himself, and gently placed the cup back down. He glanced once more at Alastair and Jack, just in time to see Jack dart up for a kiss, and Alastair bending his head a little bit. Anger flooded James’ stomach, and he clenched his fist so hard around the cup that it cracked. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he tossed the cup into the garbage, and picked up his newspaper, glancing at the couple over the top.

            They had ordered and were heading over to their table, Jack brushing their shoulders together before he sat down, his back to James. James didn’t really care, he wasn’t interested in the American. He watched Alastair’s face as Jack continued to talk. The man seemed to be so in love, his body relaxed, features soft. It filled James with some unreasonable rage, and he had to do everything in his power not to get up and pull his gun out.

            He remained still, though, and watched the couple for the hour and a half they were there. Then Alastair checked his watch, his eyebrows furrowing together, before he leaned over and kissed Jack goodbye.

            James got up and followed him.

 

 

            He kept his distance. He didn’t want to give himself away and ruin the only chance he had at getting the one he loved.

            _The one of many he loved_.

            He wasn’t no fool, either. He knew Alastair was packing heat. He knew _Jack_ was packing heat too, and that it wouldn’t be smart at all to even _try_ to get Alastair with Jack around.

            Which, seemed like it was going to be impossible. The fucker was _always_ around Al, it was like he didn’t even have a job . . .

            Of course, the right time came eventually.

            All day, Alastair had been alone. He looked disgruntled, and his eyes were puffy and red. He chain smoked cigarettes more so than he usually did, and James smiled to himself. He loved it when couples fought, it was always the perfect time . . .

            He stepped up behind Alastair at the gas station, their shoulders brushing as the man scrolled on his phone. He tensed, and looked up at James, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. “Back off,” Alastair snapped, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing it in James’ face.

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” James responded softly, and he took a step back. “I was unaware I had gotten into your personal space.”

            Alastair snorted and went back to his phone, glaring at James over his shoulder.

            James could barely see the text he sent to a friend, who was labeled as Harry.

 

            _Some fuckin’ creep is being all clingy with me at the gas station. It’s making my blood boil. All I want is for Jack to forgive me so I can fuckin’ go home. Is that too much to ask?_

 

            His tongue darted out over his lips. Hm, a lover’s quarrel . . . even better. Jack would have to live with the guilt that he and Alastair never made up . . . James cocked his head, and looked at Alastair with soft eyes. “I’m really sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to get up in your personal space.” Alastair didn’t reply. He stuck his hand out. “My name is James.”

            “My name is Piss Off.” James’ eyes widened a bit as a switchblade was pressed to his throat. “So fuckin’ do it before I get arrested for aggravated assault.”

            James flipped his palms up, and stepped away. He headed outside, and sat on the curb, staring off into the distance. He needed to think of something quick, before Alastair slipped through his grasp and he lost his love _again_ —

            His eyes landed on Alastair’s car, placed off in a darkened area of the parking lot, still running. James glanced inside, and saw that Alastair was heading to the restroom. James grappled at his pockets, relieved when he pulled out some coins and a few marbles. He discretely headed to Alastair’s car, where he turned it off and opened the gas cap. He dumped the marbles and coins inside, before he closed it up and restarted the car.

            By the time Alastair came out, James was sitting in his own car, just waiting for the man to make his move. Once the car backed out of the parking space, James began to follow.

 

 

            James pulled up behind Alastair, who was repeatedly beating his fist into the car. He smiled to himself, their eyes meeting, before he got out of the car. “Need a hand?”

            Alastair recognized him almost immediately. “Not from you, you creepy ass prick!” he snarled. The gears were turning quickly in his head, and something seemed to click. “You did something, didn’t you?! You did something to my car! I—”

            Alastair didn’t get time to finish his sentence, and he cried out as James bum rushed him, pinning him face down on the car. He twisted his arm behind his back, pressing their bodies flush together. He used his other hand to find Alastair’s voice.

            “Unlock it,” James commanded, and Alastair fearfully did so. James scrolled through his text messages, and seen that he had texted both Jack and Harry.

 

            _Never mind, Harry, I’ve got it all figured out. No need to drive all the way out here._

 

            The text to Jack made him laugh. He scrolled through apology text after apology text. “Maybe he’ll accept your apology once he finds out you’re dead?” James laughed, chucking Alastair’s phone into a ditch. Using his switch blade, James carefully cut a hole in the man’s pants, and he tossed the switchblade into the dirt, unbuckling his own pants carefully. He rubbed the tip of his cock along the man’s hole, and laughed upon finding it loose. “Never took your stone-cold ass to be a bottom bitch. I’ll make sure you get fucked _real_ good.”

            Alastair was petrified with fear. He had not let out a single word or sound, his body shaking so violently that the vibrations made James groan. He seemed to break out of it upon feeling James’ cock slowly press in, and he began to writhe and thrash. “No!” Alastair screamed, as James slammed all the way to the hilt.

            He pulled out, then thrusted back in, moving at a quick, brutal pace. He wrapped his hand around Alastair’s throat, slowly choking him until all he could let out were strangled grasps. He felt tears hit his hand, so many tears that his hand began to slip along the man’s throat. James leaned down and nuzzled against his shoulder, biting so hard he caused it to bleed. Fuck, Jack must have a mighty big cock, because Alastair’s hole was loose around him, and if he used his imagination well, he could _feel_ Jack’s leftover come, using it as lube. It felt good to get someone’s sloppy seconds.

            His cock grew harder and he moaned into Alastair’s shoulder, lapping up the blood and raking his nails over his back. “You’re such a dirty slut. I’m surprised you managed to keep Jack at all. The man is too good for you.”

            Alastair’s forehead was pressed brutally against his forearm, whines and whimpers escaping his throat, loud sobs mixing with them every once and a while. James threw his head back, his eyes closed as he continued to pound into him.

            “You’re . . . you’re right . . .”

            James stopped, one hand on Alastair’s hip, the other holding his arm tightly behind his back. He stared down at the back of Alastair’s head, and he listened to him cry. He wasn’t crying out of fear, he was crying because he knew he wasn’t good enough for his boyfriend.

            Alastair thought this is what he deserved, to be brutally raped and murdered.

            James suddenly went flaccid, and he pulled out. He grabbed Alastair by the way, whipping his head around to stare into his eyes. “He’s what?”

            Alastair’s body shook violently, his eyes wide with fear. His legs scrambled for purchase, and his hands went behind him, pressing against the car hood. “H-he’s too good for me,” he sobbed, “H-he puts up with m-my bullshit wh-when no one else will. H-he deserves better.”

            James stared him down, tracing his eyes all over his face for any hint of insincerity. All he saw was the face of a sad, desperate man, and it made him irrationally angry. He dragged Alastair back to his car, and threw him in the backseat. He rummaged around and pulled out a sedative, shoving it forcefully into his thigh. He watched Alastair squirm, and he smiled when the man passed out.

            He got into his car and drove.

 

 

            It had been two days by the time James found a hotel far enough to stay in. Not to mention it was shady enough where no one would question him dragging in a passed out body. He placed Alastair on the bed, and locked the door. He kept his gun in his hand, and he turned on the TV, relaxing on the second bed.

            The news report was on. For two straight days, they had mentioned nothing but Alastair’s disappearance. They seemed desperate, confused, playing videos of Jack sobbing into a man’s shoulder. _That must be Harry_ , he thought to himself. They discussed James a lot, calling him the _Britain_ _Demon_. It was a name he both despised and secretly loved. They discussed how this was his first wealthy victim, and what it meant.

            He snorted. They were never going to get this right . . .

            He glanced at Alastair as the man began to slowly come too. Alastair’s eyes fluttered open, and he licked his dry, parched lips. He scooted towards the edge of the bed upon seeing James, and he curled up in a tight ball. “Here,” James said, tossing a bottle of water at him. “Drink up.”

            Alastair scrambled for the water bottle, and quickly opened it before he began to chug it desperately. The bottle was quickly emptied and dropped onto the bed. James snorted and tossed the man a protein bar, which he quickly demolished.

            Alastair kept curled up, his eyes never leaving James until he heard Jack’s voice. His eyes darted to the TV, and his eyes filled with tears. “I forgive you,” Jack said, his voice cracking before he turned and began to sob into Harry’s shoulder. “I forgive you, love. I hope you’re safe.”

            Alastair kept curled up, his eyes only leaving the TV once they ended Jack’s broadcast. Slowly, his gaze turned to James. “Wh . . . why haven’t you killed me yet?” he asked, voice rough and gravelly.

            James glanced at him, before turning his gaze away. “You said that you weren’t good enough for Jack.”

            “Y . . . yes?”

            “Why did you say that?”

            “Because . . . because I’m not. He’s lovely, beautiful, charming, he forgives me when he shouldn’t . . . I . . . I’m disgusting. I’ve got issues, family issues. He wants kids, and he’d be an oh so good parent, but I . . . I can’t,” Alastair said, bursting into tears and he pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes, stifling a sob. “I’m not half the man he should be.”

            James kept quiet.

 

 

            Two weeks had passed. They had travelled from hotel to hotel, but never once did James touch Al like he had the first night. He fed him, kept him clean, but other than that he never made another move. His head was swimming, and he was confused.

            Al . . . Al was like him. He thought that he wasn’t, that he was like _Merlin_ , and that disgusted James. But now . . . a part of him thought that he had gotten the wrong target.

            _Another part wanted him to just let Alastair go_.

            James laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Alastair passed out on the next bed. The man had lost a lot of weight in the two weeks that he had been with James, but yet again, James wasn’t the same size he had been before he went on the run either.

            He sat up, and headed to the bathroom, and jumped upon his return, seeing Alastair’s eyes piercing straight into him.

            “Why haven’t you killed me?” Alastair asked, his voice still hoarse.

            James stood there for a moment, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “I . . . I don’t know. I truly don’t.”

            James pressed his back against the wall, while Alastair closed his eyes.

            “If you’re going too, can you just get it over with? I’ve made my peace with the world. I just . . . if you’re going to do it, I want to go now.”

            “What about Jack?”

            “Jack . . . I love him. He knows I love him. Even when I’m gone I’m going to make sure he knows I’m still there and that I love him. He’ll . . . he’ll find someone else. A beautiful man like him? It’d be impossible for him not too. Maybe he’ll be able to find the right person. Someone . . . someone who loves him no matter what. Someone who isn’t too fucked up to have kids. It’d be . . . better, for him to be without me.”

            James stared at him, each word piercing into his chest, which he had _thought_ had long sense perished into a black hole. Alastair looked up at him, intrigued by the silence.

            “I . . .” James finally began, “I . . . I can’t.”

            Alastair’s eyebrows furrowed together. “You can’t? Why not? Isn’t this your . . . your thing. The thing you jerk off to at night when you can’t find someone else to kill?” he asked, wrapping the blanket tighter around him.

            James stared at him, and bowed his head. “You and I? One in the same. I . . . I can’t kill someone when they’re like me. That’s not . . . I know it sounds stupid, but . . . what you just described, that wasn’t what triggered me. What you just said was _me_. How I felt. Before all of this . . .”

            Alastair tilted his head back, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What do you mean?” He slowly sat up, taking all the blankets with him. He sat his feet on the ground, and James walked over to sat across from him, the tension easing out of both of them. It was odd, how comfortable they had grown around each other, where James being mere inches from him no longer sent him spiraling into tears.

            James swallowed, and he laughed awkwardly. “I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you. I guess you should feel special. My special victim. Maybe they’ll tell stories about how you cured me of my insanity, huh?” he rambled, before he shot a very crooked smile at Alastair.

            An uneasy smile was returned.

            “Anyways,” James said, rubbing the back of his throat. “I was in love with this man. Merlin is what I called him, because you know, he was kind of a tech wiz and it just fit . . . fuck, you don’t care. But I was in love with him and of course I wasn’t good enough for the bastard. I grew up poor and he lived in a fuckin’ mansion by the time he was twenty—which the bastard owned—and I was so terrified of being thrown out—”

            James bent over, gasping for air and his hands tearing through his hair. He felt violently ill and he hated that he was spouting all of this to some random fucker he didn’t even know. One that he had planned to _kill_.

            “Fuck. I went into such a mental frenzy that it happened. He found someone better. Some cunt that he called Ginger. He tossed me out. So . . . So, I went in and I fucking killed him. Fucking chopped his head off—” He saw the look on Alastair’s face, and he paled. “Oh. I guess you already know, don’t you?”

            Alastair nodded.

            James buried his face into his hands. He felt his eyes dampen and he cursed. He shouldn’t be crying in front of this fucking _nobody_. “I’m sorry. I know this sounds stupid. Nothing excuses murder. But in my mind, when he found someone new, it was . . . it was too much for me to comprehend. All my fears came true. So . . . So, I’ve just been watching people. Killing the ones who were clearly too good for their partner. So, their partner never had to face the actual fear of being tossed out on their ass. They never had to felt inadequate.”

            James looked to Al. “I fucked up, huh?”

            Alastair’s eyes flashed with pain. “You didn’t. You would have killed Jack instead.”

            “Is that a bad thing? You just said—”

            “Yes, but I still _love him_. Losing him would destroy me like it destroyed you. I’d . . . I’d probably kill myself,” he said softly, “He’s my everything. My night, my day. The world ceases to exist without him.”

            James cocked his head at Alastair. “That’s never how I felt about Merlin.”

            “Maybe you two weren’t in love, then?”

 

 

            Alastair’s words rang through his head constantly. It was starting to give him a headache. Did he really love Merlin? Or did he just kill him because of the fear he felt? Was what they had even love at all, or had James just freaked out because he had lost his home and he would have been poor again?

            Everything flooded his head and it hurt. He knew he should have been focusing on the possibility of being caught but he just couldn’t find it in him to care. The police were getting more and more nervous that they hadn’t found the body yet, and they wondered if this was a different killer.

            _No,_ James thought, _my victim just rocked me to the core_.

            James laid on the hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling. Alastair was reading a book on the other bed. It had been a month since he had been kidnapped, two weeks since their talk. James rolled onto his side, and looked at Alastair. “Can I ask you a question?”

            Alastair hummed, but didn’t put his book down.

            “What did you feel whenever you saw Jack? What . . . who’s the money maker in the family?”

            Alastair slowly lowered his book. “Well . . . when I looked at him, I thought about how lucky I was for him to have fallen in love with me. That I would die for him, that I would _kill_ for him if he asked me too. But I knew the feelings went both ways. How clingy he was with me, how he would talk nonstop . . . it was a rare side of him not many got to see and I knew I was special. I knew I was loved.”

            James rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The words struck a cord in his heart. Alastair—while he was still scared, and fearful—still knew he was _loved_. Jack reassured him with his words and actions. Merlin never made him feel that way.

            A panic went through his chest. _Maybe he wasn’t in love with James after all? What if I was just a warm body to fill his bed?_

He was dragged out of his thoughts as Alastair continued, “As for who made the money . . . well . . . we both did. I worked for a tailor, he worked for a brewing company. He may not look like it, but he has money. He’s just a very . . . humble man, I guess. I’ve never been able to get him to care about his looks.”

            James froze, and he dug his nails into his stomach. Merlin forced James to live at home. He never allowed him to get a job . . . Suddenly, he didn’t feel bad about killing Merlin.

            “When you have sex,” James said, surprised when his voice cracked rather violently. “Did . . . did he make you feel special? Loved?”

            Alastair paused. “Yes. He did. He was always so slow, and gentle . . . He would utter soft words in my ear, with a tight grip around my throat just the way I liked it. Afterwards, especially if we had it rough, he would gently massage my body, doing everything he could to make sure I wasn’t sore in the morning.”

            James deflated, curling in on himself. “What you have with Jack . . . it . . . it sounds lovely.”

            “Did you not have that? With Merlin?”

            James slowly shook his head no.

            Alastair stared at him for a bit, before he returned to his book.

 

 

            Another month had passed. Alastair and James had fallen into a routine, they would move every couple of days, and every couple of days Alastair would dye his hair a different color. It wasn’t permanent die, it was the kind of spray on hair dye you used when you were a lazy fuck. In this case, it just made recognition harder.

            They sat in a diner, James dragging his spoon through the soup, while Alastair carefully ate his dinner. James sniffed, then looked up at him. “You . . . You can go home.”

            Alastair paused, and looked up at him. “What?” he asked, pushing the bright blue hair out of his face. It had gotten so long . . . he no longer looked prim and proper.

            “I said you can go home. I’m . . . I’m not gonna hurt you, Al. You don’t deserve it. You and Jack deserve to be happy together. I’m not even sure if I want to be like this anymore,” James admitted, burying his hands into his hair.

            Alastair stared at him for a long time, before he picked up the bowl and drank the rest of his soup. He got up, and walked out of the diner.

 

 

            It was less than two days when he got a call on his phone. He kept one on him, just in case of emergencies, and he had given Al the number in case of . . . something. He didn’t know what. Just _something_.

            And something did happen.

            “I killed him,” Alastair’s voice echoed through the phone.

            “You _what?_ ” He asked in surprise, nearly dropping the phone.

            “I killed Jack. And Harry. The bastard was fucking him when I returned. Said that he thought I was dead. Said he couldn’t wait around for me forever. _It had been two months_ ,” he spat. “I’m coming back. The only person I can trust is you. Tell me where you are.”

            Pleasure ran through Alastair’s tummy, and he licked his lips. It was . . . hm . . . nice, to be told that you were the only one someone could trust. “The usual. I haven’t left yet. Hurry back, the police will be on your tail and we need to move.”

            “Got it. Get rid of this phone, too. Get me some new clothes. I’m covered in blood.”

            “We’ll worry about that later. Just get here, first.”

 

 

            It was less than two hours for Alastair to get here. He knew the man must have sped, because it was a four hour drive alone . . . He wondered how he didn’t get pulled over. Maybe he did and he killed those cops.

            Al stepped into the hotel room, blood all across his face and his shirt. His cock was hanging out of the front of his trousers, and it too was doused in blood. It made James’ mouth water. “Come here, baby,” James said, beckoning him forward.

            Al stepped forward and James fell to his knees. Eagerly, he took him into his mouth, lapping up the blood and bobbing his head over the length. He pulled back, jerking him off with one hand as he looked up at him, blood smeared across his mouth. “Whose blood is it?”

            “Jack’s.”

            “What did you do?”

            “Slit his stomach open and fucked him so hard his organs fell out.”

            James purred and moaned, before he began to suck him off again, swallowing him all the way to the hilt and wrapping his hand around his balls, squeezing them so tight he felt Alastair buck into his mouth. Alastair buried his fist into his hair, getting blood all over and pounding into his mouth. James pulled off when he felt him around to come, and he gripped his cock hard as he stood up, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He wrapped an arm around his waist and into the inside of his jeans, going to finger him. He moaned when he felt his hole was slick.

            “What did you do here, you naughty boy?”

            “Rode a dildo all the way here. Fucked myself good and nice in preparation for you,” he said, licking Jack’s blood off of James’ face. “I expect you to fuck me good and quick. Don’t need the police catching us.”

            James nodded breathlessly in agreement, and pulled the man’s pants down, before he turned him and forced him down into the mattress. He didn’t restrain him, just gently placed his hands on his hips as he tugged down his trousers. He cooed when he saw his hole gaping, begging for a cock to fill it. “You’re such a whore.”

            “Yeah, well, got nothing else better to do when you’re fucking disgusting boyfriend cheats on you all because he thought you were dead.”

            James chuckled. “I guess not. At least I’m not alone. We can help others, Alastair,” he said, stroking his cock and pressing the tip against the loose hole. “We can set them free.”

            Alastair snorted and opened his mouth to reply, before he was fucked into. He arched his back and cried out in pleasure. Before James could even pull out, he was fucking himself back against the man’s cock, rolling his hips and his arms stretched out in front of him, his eyes going back into his head before he pressed them against his forearms. “ _Fuck_.”

            “You like that?” James asked with a grin.

            “Shut the fuck up and keep going. We don’t have much time.”

            “All right, all right, jeez,” he said with a laugh, before he pushed Alastair into the mattress and began to fuck into him so hard the bed was creaking violently. Alastair threw his head back and cried out, his cock leaking come all onto the bed. “Am I a better fuck than he is?”

            “T-totally,” Alastair whimpered, “Had a big cock and didn’t know how to use it.”

            James laughed and he leaned down, wrapping a hand around Alastair’s throat and biting down so hard on his shoulder it began to bleed. Alastair cried out, tears stinging his eyes and his body shuddering. “P-please, love.”

            “Say no more,” James whispered into his shoulder, licking up his blood as he wrapped his hand around Alastair’s cock, and jerked him to completion. Hearing Alastair cry out in pleasure made James quickly follow suit, and they collapsed on the bed.

            Alastair rolled over, and wrapped his arms around James’ throat, lazily kissing him. James’ eyes were shut, and he let out a soft moan when he heard police sirens getting close. “Come on, love,” he murmured, pulling out and tugging him to his feet, slowly putting his clothes back on and grabbing his gun.

            Alastair smiled at him, and followed suit. They walked out of the hotel room, guns drawn and firing.


End file.
